An Age of War
An Age of War is an in-progress novel about the struggles of the Core War on an alternate Spherus Magna. Story Prologue The bleak, mountainous landscape of the north had been the Skrall's homeland for some years now, giving them a small advantage in bloody war that had lasted a decade, as of yet. The dangerous slopes and jagged rocks made for a very well-defended border. An attacking force would most likely lose half of their battalion just attempting to get past the first of the mountains. In a simpleton's words, the Skrall's forces were extremely difficult to approach when they weren't in battle. The war season was over, and the four main factions of the war - the Skrall, the Novans, the Mhirran's, and the Nihnans - had returned to their respective countries. It was now the time for rest and harvest. But the Skrall, unlike the others, did not rest. They slept for only six hours of the day and survived on hard rations, so they could spend the most time making weapons, planning and designing new battle tactics, and performing their ever-repetitive army drills. The Skrall were a spartan race; they had no time for luxury. A large plateau at the summit of the mountains was where the bulk of the Skrall's forces were. Thousands of warriors marched in machine-like unison, each century of soldiers led by a single elite-class Skrall. The army drilled day after day to achieve their infamous, robotic eficiency. The weakest of the Skrall were put to death, for this nation had no time for sick or the weak. The Skrall only had time for champions. The Skrall's tents were separated into two distinct divisions: one area for the warriors and sub-generals, and one area for the tacticians and the head general. One large tent housed the world map, where the head general would discuss with his topmost tacticians of new war plans and battlefields that would possibly benefit the army. It was about mid-morning, and the head general - a battle-worn warrior by the name of Tenecius - called the sub-generals to the world map. Normally, war meetings were held once a month during the evening meal, when all of the hard work had been finished. The sudden calling of generals was surprising to any experienced warrior. The elite group of soldiers and schemers made their way accross the uneven surface of the plateau towards the central tent, a small, irregular mass of swarming bodies. One of the new generals was walking near the back end of the mass, casually striding towards the tent. He was a thin, gangly warrior clad in black and lime armor who went by the name Srekkl. Srekkl had an unusually high-pitched voice for a Skrall, but hardly ever talked. Most of his fellow soldiers thought it was out of fear that he would be mocked for his voice. The thin warrior finally made it over to the map tent, and took a seat on the hard, rocky ground. Srekkl listened intently to what General Tenecius had to say. "As you know," his deep voice echoed, "the end of the war season has come upon us, and the other armies have been perfecting our legions. We are of the supureor race, and we will one day win this war!" Cheers echoed throughout the plateau, and slowly died as Tenecius began to speak once more. "That day may be sooner than we think." Quiet murmurs of curiosity filled the tent. The haze that normally covered the mountaintops a this hour only made it even more mysterious. Srekkl listened to every word Tenecius spoke. "This year, we will not start attacking during the normal time the war season begins. We will be launching a surprise attack on the Mhirrans in one month." Again, surprised murmuring filled the tent. "Also, on an equally important note," Tenecius spoke in a hushed tone, "a spy is among our army. Be careful of what you say among your legion. One of them may come back to you and stab you in the back." Srekkle's eyes widened, for she was the spy. Chapter One Some years ago, around two or three hundred, the proud Vorox race suffered from a horrid disease. The symtoms of this sickness went unnoticed fo half a century, until one of their scholars made a discovery: the Vorox race was devolving. Now, two hundred and fifty years later, the Vorox could not even be compared to the brilliant nation they once were. Small, nomadic tribes dotted the surface of the planet, their once-wise minds reduced to primitive understandings of science and nature. Their physical properties could be compared to a roach. The Vorox of the old years of the universe were recognized for their complex organic anatomy, without any mechanical systems to help them run. But the horrors of disease took its toll on the Vorox, turning them into hideous beings with grotesque exoskeletons. Their irksome appearance contrasts their utter loyalty to any being that helps them. If even a small good deed is done for them, they are indebted eternaly to the one who has helped. Just a few months before, a small party of Mhirran spies warned Absalom's tribe of the danger of a Bone Hunter attack. The Vorox and the small party of foreigners warded off the raiders, and the loyal Vorox offered the spies a place to stay until they were ready to leave. These spies who helped Absalom and his village were still accepting shelter from them, and would stay until their mission was complete. That mission was to find a weakness in the Skrall army. The same month that the spies first took shelter, they sent one of their own up the Black Spike Mountains to become a part of the Skrall army. During that time, that one spy would look for a weak link in the army until it was found. Currently the spy was still at the summit of the mountains, looking for the Skrall's weak link, and the two others were still staying at the Vorox village at the mountains' base. Gelu woke up. He looked around, making sure that nobody would be disturbed by him leaving the small hut. The glatorian carefully got out of his hammock, coutiously making his way around the sleeping foms of Vorox on the ground. Gelu eventually got to the doorway leading outside and walked out to see Roden and Naragu eating their morning meal. Roden was a Bone Hunter taken captive by the Vorox when his kind attemted to raid their village. He had gotten one of his legs torn off by one of the defending Vorox, so he was taken into the village to heal (the Vorox were not a cruel race as of yet). Roden later had shown proof of his betrayal to the Bone Hunters by telling the Vorox of an underground passageway to the heart of his camp. He had been a friend of the Vorox and the Mhirrans ever since. Naragu was a Vorox agori (or, as others call them, Zesk) who quickly befriended Roden. He had always taken pity on the wounded, and when Roden lost one of his limbs, the young Zesk had taken the Bone Hunter to care for. Gelu walked over to where they were eating, an called out a greeting. "What're you doung awake so early?" he asked. Naragu replied, "Today's a big day for for us Vorox. We'll be harvesting the thornax fruit for thornax stew. It tastes delicious served cold this time of year." Gelu shuddered. He'd tasted the concoction of thornax, water, and spices, but the Mhirran disliked it. He wanted to start a conversation, so he continued the subject. He asked, "How do you eat the stuff? It's disgusting." "You have a problem, then." Roden said. "It tastes splendid!" So they continued to debate and discuss over the taste of thornax stew, until Roden saw something quite interesting. "Look!" he exclaimed suddenly. Gelu turned around, squinting, as he looked at the base of the mountains. He saw a being that looked female in appearance with green and black armor running down the slope. Then realization dawned on him as he made out who it was. "It's Zaria." Gelu said, relief flooding through him. "I hope she's found something." Chapter unfinished Characters *Tenecius *"Srekkl" *Absalom (mentioned) *Gelu *Roden *Naragu *Zaria Trivia *This story was written because the author saw many alternate universe works, such as Varkanax39's The Eternal Game and sequels, and the colaborative Dark Realities project written by Jareroden97, Chicken Bond, and Varkanax39.